


Future Firsties

by HeathenVampires



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Multi, Other, Ships and content warnings inside, but you can view who will be in it, enter at own risk, hence the name, this is a bunch of first chapters for future fics, without reading it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18609136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeathenVampires/pseuds/HeathenVampires
Summary: Dumping ground for first chapters of future stories/ideas for them. Could be modern, canon, AU, M rated, T rated, any pairing, no pairing. Who knows!





	1. Rebound

**To clarify; I am _not_ writing this story ** **_yet._ ** **But these starter chapters buzz in my head a lot, so I'm getting them down and you can see what's coming up.**

**For _this_ opener...**

**This won't be like Open in many regards. I mean, Hicretstrid is end game but nobody is poly here at first. There's a clumsy, bumbling journey to that point rather than experienced polyamores. But hey, it'll be fun. I think. Mess of Eretstrid, Hiccstrid, future Hicret + Hicretstrid.**

-HTTYD-

Astrid threw her hands up in exasperation, sighing loudly as Eret just shrugged at her. She was at a complete loss.

"What is it you want? Cus right now, I'm feeling like you want to break up."

Eret shook his head, but Astrid wasn't seeing any real conviction.

"I don't want to break up."

"Then please, for the love of Thor, tell me what's going on with you."

Her boyfriend had always been wonderful. Sweet and caring, a real gentle giant type. Astrid adored him. _Loved_ him. But lately, he was secretive, irritable and Astrid was beginning to fear he was cheating on her.

"There's nothing going on with me."

Running a hand through her hair, Astrid knew if she stayed there would just be another row. She was done with that. Eret wasn't looking at her, so Astrid grabbed her keys, stepped into her shoes and reached for her jacket, wallet a reassuring weight in the pocket.

"This isn't working for me. I can't be around you like this. Call me when you sort your shit out."

"Astrid, wait!"

For a brief second, Astrid hoped he was going to finally tell her what was going on. She looked at him expectantly, but Eret just went silent, and the hope fell flat.

"Fine."

She left, feeling that lump in her throat that Astrid swallowed down. It could wait. Driving straight to Heather's, Astrid let herself in with her key, then flopped down on her friends sofa and allowed the tears to come out.

Heather didn't bat an eye finding Astrid had let herself into her friends house like she lived there. But she was quite perturbed about the crying. They lamented over chocolate and vodka, and while Astrid had a rotten hangover when she rose from her undignified face-plant into one of Heather's pillows, she felt lighter to have gotten all the stress with Eret off her chest. Heather was snoring next to her; the two had shared a bed as kids having sleepovers, and saw no need to change now they were grown.

Astrid clambered from the bed, clutching her skull as she raided the kitchen cabinet for pain killers, guzzled some water before trying to brush the horrid taste from her mouth - she had her own toothbrush, towel, shower gel and shampoo in Heather's bathroom. Hel, she had her own drawer and wardrobe section. Heather had her own things at Astrid's too - they were always prepared for an emergency.

Like Astrid possibly breaking up with her current live-in boyfriend.

Rinsing foam from her mouth, Astrid felt the tablets kicking in and headed out to the kitchen in search of coffee. Heather rose a little later, following much the same ritual as Astrid until they were bundled up under blankets on Heather's sofa.

"So what are you gonna do? You're welcome to crash here if you want to let him stew."

Astrid shook her head, tempting as the prospect was.

"Nah. I'm gonna go home, see if he's ready to talk."

She'd checked her phone at last - Heather had confiscated it when Astrid was drunk - but gotten zero communication from her boyfriend as of yet. Still, she knew Eret wasn't really a texter, and preferred face-to-face communication over phone calls. So maybe he was at home, waiting for her so they could talk.

Leaving Heather's after lunch, when Astrid felt less disgustingly hungover, she drove home with a view to being open, listening to what Eret had to say rather than starting angry. They had had too many fights already.

When she got back, the place was empty. Astrid glanced to the calendar they both wrote their work shifts on, and that day was blank. So she went through looking for signs Eret had even spent the night there, and found little. The bathroom was dry, bed still made and cold. His phone charger wasn't looped up on the bedside table like it usually was.

Astrid scanned the worktops for signs Eret had made breakfast; he was always spilling protein powder or porridge oats on the side. Instead, she found a note in his messy hand resting against her hot chocolate tub.

_Gone to stay at Teeny's to clear my head._

_I love you._

There were a lot of dots and lines before the 'I', as though Eret had placed pen to paper only to change his mind about writing it. She could go to his cousins, she knew where Teeny lived and that he was a reasonable enough guy to not interfere if Astrid wanted to see her boyfriend.

If he was her boyfriend.

Astrid wasn't sure right now.

She texted Heather to update, declined the offer to go over there again. Astrid cleaned when she was stressed, so the vacuum and furniture polish came out. Playing music full blast, Astrid scrubbed and swept and wiped and buffed every surface she could. Four hours later, the place was spotless but she felt no better.

Collapsing into a bed lined with fresh sheets, Astrid sighed deeply and looked at her phone. Nothing from Eret. Despite urges to call him and demand an explanation, Astrid told herself he wanted to cleat his head, and she would offer that time to him.

After three days, Astrid was a little put out but mostly ok. After a week, she sent Eret a text to check he was still alive. He replied, but it was short and functional. Astrid began to wonder if he actually missed her at all. She shook that thought off at first, told herself she was being ridiculous.

After two weeks, those thoughts were becoming more prevalent. Eret still hadn't been home. Not even for spare clothes.

Af week three, Astrid called him while in Heather's living room, cuddling a pillow and demolishing a tub of ice cream. His cousin answered Eret's phone, said Eret didn't want to talk to anybody. Heather did her best to comfort Astrid, but it wasn't enough to prevent an angry blonde telling Teeny to tell Eret Astrid was done waiting around.

"Did you just dump him?"

Heather asked, watching Astrid hang up and grab her ice cream, stabbing viciously at the little chocolate crunch bits.

"Kind of. If he doesn't call me tomorrow I'm going to assume he's made his choice. Honestly, I'm more disappointed about how he's gone about it... I thought he was better than that."

"Yeah. Me too. If you want to move out you know you can have Dagur's old room. Not that I think you should, since he's already gone. But the options there."

Astrid did so adore her best friend and the supportive nature.

"Thanks babe. Assuming he doesn't call me back tomorrow, can we go out?"

"Depends where we're going? Quiet drink? Liver destruction? On the pull? Only I have work the day after, so if it's the last two it'll need to be the night before a day I can be hungover."

"Just a quiet drink. I just want to get out of crying into ice cream and staring at my phone."

Heather nodded, patting her hair affectionately.

"We can do that."

Eret didn't call her. Astrid resigned herself to now being single, deciding her drink with Heather that evening would now be a toast to her future spinsterhood. She dressed for comfort, not caring who saw her in a pub in jeans and a hoody moping that her boyfriend - no, _ex_ boyfriend had turned out to be a complete dick.

Heather followed suit, her well-worn favourite grey jumper draped over her slim frame. They headed out after a quick dinner of steak... only her chef best friend would call steak such a thing. The pub wasn't empty, but peaceful enough that they ordered drinks and found a table with no difficulty. The music wasn't thrilling, but it wasn't so loud they couldn't talk. All in all, it was what Astrid needed to break up her breakup moping.

"So, have you decided about moving out yet?"

"No. When I'm not ready to strangle Eret, I'll think about just throwing his stuff out the window for satisfaction."

Heather snorted into her glass, her fruity cider smelling sweet over Astrid's vodka and coke.

"I'm sure Dagur would help."

"I've no doubt, but I want a clean break from the relationship. Not Eret's legs from his body."

Dagur was a tad overprotective, considered Astrid as much his baby sister as he did Heather. It would be a shock for him too - he actually liked Eret. So the break up might dent that friendship. And Eret's face, if Dagur got the chance.

"I need more alcohol."

"Coke for me" at Astrid's raised eyebrow Heather added "one of us needs to be fit to drive."

Point taken, Astrid headed up to the bar. The guy who had served her was busy with a group of men, but he saw her waiting, turned and whistled to the door behind him. Someone came out, was gestured toward Astrid. Oh, he was pretty though. Bright green eyes, shaggy auburn hair and a jawline he could cut glass on.

"What can I get you?"

Oh. She should talk.

"Do I know you?"

That wasn't a drinks order. Astrid mentally slapped herself. Pretty man cocked his head, then smiled and nodded to himself.

"Astrid. Astrid Hofferson."

"That's me."

"Hiccup Haddock. We went to school together. Granted, I was about a foot shorter and looked about six."

_This_ was Hiccup? Holy Hel. He had grown up.

"Do you work here?"

"Not quite. I live upstairs while I'm between homes, work here to help out. Here on a date?"

Gesturing to her outfit, Astrid gave Hiccup an incredulous look.

"Do I _look_ like I'm on a date?"

Hiccup shrugged, giving her the once over.

"Depends on the date. Drinks?"

"Oh. Right."

Astrid ordered her drinks, paid and returned to Heather.

"What took you so long? The massive queue?"

"Familiar face. Hiccup's on the bar."

"Not Hiccup Haddock?"

"How many Hiccups do _you_ know?"

Heather craned her head, almost falling out of her seat.

"That's _never_ him. Damnnnn."

"Right?"

Taking a sip of her coke, Heather stretched in her seat. Looked at Astrid strangely.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

Astrid eyed her friend shrewdly.

"What?"

"Well. You're allowed a rebound. He's cute."

She rolled her eyes at Heather, took a swallow of her drink.

"I distinctly remember not saying on the pull."

"So you don't mind if I hit on him then?"

Astrid glared.

"Not at all."

"Riiiight. So eager to refute me you forget I have a boyfriend."

Astrid was definitely going to kill Heather.

"Shut up."

"Come on. You've not gotten any in a while" yep, Astrid was going to kill her "and there is a hot guy over there who had a crush on you for five years."

_"What?"_

"You never knew? Haddock had it baaaad. Now go hit on him."

"Heather-"

Heather cut her off, literally hand over her mouth and not even blinking when Astrid licked her palm to get rid of it.

"I'm not saying jump the lad. But you wanted a change from crying over Phish Food. When was the last time you even looked at another guy? I know you're bummed out, and he always made you laugh."

Reluctant but aware of Heather's persistence and stubbornness, Astrid got up to return to the bar. Dressed in her comfies and not looking for anything, she hoped Hiccup wasn't on the bar so Heather could shut up and go back to letting Astrid contemplate burning Eret's clothes.

"Another drink already? I hope I'm not enabling a wallowing."

Damnit.

"What makes you say that?"

"I serve alcohol. You sense these things. Wanna talk about it?"

Sighing, Astrid slumped on a bar stool and looked expectantly at Hiccup until he presented her with her next drink.

"Alcohol administered. Talk."

She lamented the trouble with Eret loosely, complaining about an ex and some distress at the way be basically disappeared and ignored her.

"And you didn't go round and kick his ass?"

"Thought about it. But if I'm not even worth talking to... he's certainly not worth that much effort."

"Fair point."

Hiccup stayed chatting to her for a good fifteen minutes, only moving to serve an old lady a whiskey. Heather scuttled closer, nudging Astrid's arm.

"It's gonna get late and I have an early shift. You want a ride?"

Astrid wavered, but she wasn't done drinking.

"I'll get a taxi."

"If you don't come back to mine, let me know you got home alright babe?"

"Will do."

Heather squeezed her arm, kissed her hair, waved at Hiccup and left. Hiccup smiled politely, returned to Astrid's spot at the bar.

"So it was a hot date."

"Totally."

"You can clock off Henry, Gus is here."

Hiccup nodded at the boss man, then turned to Astrid.

"If you want, you can come up and drink and whine about your ex?"

Astrid eyed him suspiciously.

"Are you trying it on Haddock?"

"No, I just know you're a private person. And drinking upstairs with me will be free."

Point taken, Astrid followed Hiccup around the back of the bar and up the stairs, tamping down on an urge to deck the guys wolf-whistling behind them. Did she look like a booty call?

"Please ignore the decor. This isn't a long term place for me."

It was a bit sparse on decorations, aside from drawings stuck to the walls. Hiccup was always drawing.

"If you don't work here what do you do?"

"Part time at my dads garage, part time designer for a motorcycle company. Best of both worlds. You?"

"Personal trainer. With all the ice cream and alcohol I've had recently, I've needed the extra work outs."

Hiccup lifted up a pile of folded clothes and put them on a table, gestured to the available space and Astrid sat on the sofa.

"Speaking of, what's your poison? I have whiskey, beer, vodka and a rather fancy wine... it's not what it sounds like. My uncle kicked the habit, we all cleared out his stash cus he wouldn't hear of it being poured away "

Having been worried Hiccup was a closet alcoholic, Astrid breathed an inward sigh of relief.

"Wine. Heather hates it, so we never drink it."

"Are you fussy about glasses?"

"No?"

Hiccup came out, handed her a tall glass tumbler - not standard wine fare - and plopped down on the other side of the sofa.

"So, would you like to rant some more about your ex? Or get hopelessly drunk and sleep on my sofa? We could do both."

Astrid sipped her wine, which was really quite nice, and sighed.

"You could tell me what this is about."

"How so?"

"Well. We haven't seen each other in six years. You hear I'm recently single and invite me upstairs for a drink. Be fair, it looks suspect."

Hiccup frowned into his drink, then nodded.

"Fair enough. And honestly? You looked sad. I didn't want you to be sad."

"That it?"

He nodded, sipped his glass. Astrid actually believed him.

"So... boyfriend? Work? General life? I am available for all ranting."

"Really?"

"Well, I would wager I'm the only guy you know with an ex boyfriend myself."

Astrid almost dropped her drink.

"You're gay?"

"Nope. Like I said... best of both worlds. I came out at uni, but obviously by then our lives had branched out."

"So, bisexual?"

Hiccup nodded, smiled.

"Does that bother you?"

"Nope. I am curious though. Boyfriend or girlfriend break up that brought you here?"

"Girlfriend. Well. Ex girlfriend. Mom offered to let me move in with her but it would have doubled my commute."

They talked for what felt like hours, only sipping from their drinks when mouths grew dry and Astrid wondered when the last time she'd had such an in depth conversation with someone other than Heather, Dagur or Eret. Not that meaningful conversation with Eret had happened in a while. She had progessively sobered up from a relatively mild alcohol consumption by then, and her notice of how ridiculously pretty Hiccup was hadn't faded.

"Hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Pizza? Brownies? Or if you're on a health thing I've got chicken."

"Brownies."

Astrid immediately craved chocolate when he mentioned it, followed him to his little kitchenette. The haphazard slices said they were someone's home bake, Hiccups expectant expression telling they were probably his. Astrid bit into one, explosion of rich, moist flavour bursting across her tongue.

"Oh my gods, these are amazing."

"Thanks. I like them."

Licking her teeth clean, Astrid resisted the urge to devour the entire plateful. They were delicious, but she'd had enough bad days. Hiccup did the same, then eyed her strangely.

"What is it?"

"You have a little... do you mind?"

Astrid shook her head, watched Hiccup reach out and brush crumbs from her cheek. It must be that she had missed touch for so long, that her breath hitched slightly as his fingers brushed her jaw. If he noticed, Hiccup didn't point it out. He looked away, fingers twitching at his sides.

"Do you want to stay here? Or shall I call you a taxi?"

"Did you really have a crush on me for five years?"

What possessed her to ask, Astrid had no idea. Curiosity? A need to know somebody wanted her?

"That's very specific."

Well, that wasn't an answer.

"Heather told me earlier. Did you?"

"No."

Astrid wasn't sure why, but it stung.

"Fair enough. I should-"

"I still do."

Hiccup's words were low, barely above a whisper but Astrid heard every word.

"What?"

"Come on. You're still the gorgeous, whip-smart blonde you always were. Hel, _more._ Of course I'm still attracted to you."

Astrid looked up, made a snap decision and grabbed the babbling idiots shirt. Hauled him closer, kissed him. Hiccup made a sound of surprise, but he responded eagerly, hands on Astrid's hips. Then he was pushing her away, shaking his head and she missed the chocolate she could taste on his lips.

"Wait. Wait. You're drunk."

"Nope. As my bartender, calculate how many drinks you gave me over how many hours."

Hiccup actually stood there, thinking about it.

"Ok. Not drunk. But-"

Astrid kissed him again, curling her fingers in his ridiculously messy hair. Hiccup's arms held her tight, but he pushed her away again seconds later and left her gasping, breathless. Damn he could kiss.

"What now?"

"I'm not naive, we're both on rebounds. But I don't want you regretting this."

Gods, he was definitely still Hiccup.

"I won't. Will you?"

Hiccup shook his head.

"Gods no."

"Then stop worrying and fuck me."

His mouth landed on hers again, relentless and hungry and Astrid ached with need; she and Eret hadn't had sex, had barely even _touched_ for weeks before the split. Now here was Hiccup all grown up and hot, kissing the living daylights out of her as he tugged up her hoody, hands landing on bare skin revealed. She yanked his shirt up equally eagerly, leaving them both shirtless and Astrid's hand splayed over his groin, felt him swell beneath the fabric there

Astrid found herself braced over the arm of his sofa, bra still on and jeans around her knees as Hiccup probed her with his fingers, joking how fortuitous it was he had only been to th pharmacy that day when he pulled a condom from a bag onthis table. Wanton, needy, she whined in frustration as Hiccup took his sweet time to put the damned thing on.

"Oh, fuck..."

Hiccup filled her steadily, sharp hipbones brushing against her skin as they came flush. He gripped her, so Astrid returned the favour, squeezing at his cock and Hiccup bucked, groaned.

"E-easy!"

"Don't want it easy" Astrid pushed back, words mostly low growls "I want it rough."

His hands stilled her, thrusts shallow. Little more than a tease.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

Pure need rushed her on, urging Hiccup with her until he was moving at last, still shallow thrusts but growing in speed, depth. Hel, confidence. Hiccup clearly enjoyed her responses, and when Astrid moaned and swore as he fucked her, he gave her the rough she craved, hand pressed on her back to pin her slightly, other hand slapping across her ass and Astrid jolted, cried out and shuddered.

"D-do that again!"

Hiccup obliged, slapped her ass again snd _fuck_ that felt good, the pain a delicious burn that fuelled that churning heat his cock stoked with each thrust. His rhythm grew almost punishing and Astrid knew he'd needed it too, the abandon, the quest for pleasure and little more. It was evident in the power behind his hips as they slammed against her, it was there in the vice grip his fingers had in her skin.

Those fingers uncurled, sliding down to press to Astrid's clit, leaving her to topple under the fast, feral blaze they'd sparked between them. Hiccup made his own sounds of satisfaction when Astrid came, buckled under the pleasure himself if his stttering rhythm was any indication.

That first time only took the edge off for both. His sofa, bed and bathroom all saw more of Astrid than most people had, and Astrid woke next morning to Hiccups light snores next to her, a throbbing ache between her thighs that made her smile and a half-dozen missed calls and texts from Heather. The last one insinuated pretty much exactly what had gone on, Astrid going off with Hiccup and so on

Feeling a little guilty, Astrid redressed and slipped out without waking Hiccup. He'd said it himself - they were both on the rebound. Called Heather from her taxi home, looking the absolute epitome of walk of shame and not caring a jot. It had been so good just to have fun again.

Of course, she wasn't expecting to find Eret in their- no, _her_ flat when she walked in. Still with HIccups sweat on her skin and looking truly fucked after not being home all night, Astrid reckoned ex boyfriend knew where ex girlfriend had been.

"What do you want?"

"I'm bisexual."

Ok, she wasn't expecting that as an answer.

"I know. But that doesn't answer my question?"

"You what?"

Astrid had known a while; she saw her man checking out other men all the time.

"Look, Eret, I'm glad you had your epiphany. But I haven't heard off you in a month. And I really need a shower."

Astrid catalogued faint bruises here and there, a bite on her chest. She showered quickly, dressed in fresh clothes and felt infinitely more human for it.

"Ok. Talk."

"Are you seeing someone?"

"No. I did have sex last night, but that was... Why am I explaining myself to you?"

Eret looked hurt, and Astrid realised with a deep pang that she did still love the massive idiot. They sat, talked. And talked. And _talked._

"I was... worried I was gay I guess. I didn't know how to handle it all, so I... I didn't. But I realised I still love you, and I am hoping I didn't ruin us so much we can't work it out."

Astrid didn't regret the previous night, but she also knew as soon as he said it that despite his poor handling, Eret had been in an emotional turmoil and withdrawn completely.

"Alright. We'll try. But no more freeze outs or silent treatment. One chance here bucko."

And so they began work to patch up their relationship. She and Eret talked in depth about his epiphany, about coming out and so on. About how if he ever pulled the same stunt again Astrid would definitely burn his clothes. Heather was glad they made up. It was all good in the Hunter-Hofferson pad - even if Astrid felt bad dropping on Hiccup without a word. It was just a one night thing, they both got what they wanted. Needed. That night.

Content to move on from the bad, Astrid glanced at the calendar in passing to check her shift at the gym. Then spotted something, and started counting. Recounting. Double checking. In all the Eret-based emotions, she hadn't noticed.

She had missed her period.

-HTTYD-

**Probably needs tweaking but I have ideas best kept out of my head. Here's one.**


	2. Bloodlines

**Well, the future firsties idea seems to have gone over alright. So here's another firstie for the future.**

**It's gonna end up a Heathcupstrid... but with a twist.** **This ones mostly gonna be story-intro, but won't fit everything in. There's stuff like divorce and remarrying, amongst... other things.**

**Stoick POV is a one off. For good reason. It was awful to write. And no, not _that_ Bertha.**

-HTTYD-

"It's been a year Stoick. It's time to accept she's gone."

The Berk chief grumbled, looking at his toddler son, so like his mother in looks. Right down to that slender build. Spitelout offered unwelcome commentary as he tagged along so his wife could nurse Hiccup, who desperately needed the strengthening feed and had no mother to offer it.

Valka...

"Not until I find her."

"What're ya gonna do? Hope you recognise her bones?"

If it weren't for Hiccup, peering at him with bright green eyes from where he was feeding, Stoick might have slammed his fist into Jorgensons face. Repeatedly.

"Spite, be kind in front of the boy."

"Ah, he doesn't understand do you boyo?"

Little Hiccup averted his eyes, unsettled and unwilling to nurse now. He reached for Stoick, entire body barely the width of his forearm.

"Dada."

Between his fingers was clutched a piece of one of Valka's tunic-dresses, made into a sort of small blanket and it comforted him. He mightn't even remember her when he was grown, but right now Hiccup knew the scent on his blanket was his mother and she was missing.

"Your boy needs a mother. Who's going to watch him when you're off on dragon raids?"

"Mama?"

That word broke Stoick's heart. Maybe he _did_ owe his son someone to take care of him. A mother figure that could fill the hole in his life.

"One more search. Then I'll think about it."

Spitelout sighed, but Stoick was adamant. Leaving Hiccup with his wet nurse, they took off again to search for the Nest. Surely that was where her... body would be? Stoick just wanted closure really. Or at least an end to the hope his wife was alive somewhere.

No. Impossible. Dragons didn't leave anyone alive.

The search was fruitless, costing them boats and men whilst gaining nothing but a few barrels of fish they didn't see much in the seas surrounding their island.

"Dada!"

Hiccup reached for him on sight, uncaring that there was dried blood on his arm and smoky residue on his clothes. Stoick cradled his son, and his resolve steeled - Hiccup needed another parent, rather than being passed around babysitters while Stoick was off chiefing.

As luck would have it, the opportunity presented itself only a matter of months later. Failing to bear him a son, Mogadon, the head of the Meatheads had divorced his wife Bertha. She had already been married to and divorced from Oswald the Agreeable. She'd born _him_ a son, but Mogadon and she had produced a daughter. If rumour was right, the previous 'miscarriage' had been another daughter that was left to the gods in hopes they would send a son next time.

Coerced into seeing that Bertha was both a mother and had connections to multiple tribes, she knew her way around the archipelago and had experience in remarriage... Stoick offered the woman a contract. She was as clear as he that it was a practicality - Bertha got a safe place for her daughter, Astrid, and no concern about being an outcast. Stoick got someone to care for Hiccup, someone to help around the house and keep things going when he was busy.

Aside from consummation, their marriage wasn't physical for a couple of months. Stoick wasn't looking for a love connection - he needed a wife and mother. But gradually, they developed a friendship and had some close nights together. Almost before Stoick knew it, Bertha had fallen pregnant.

Hiccup and Astrid - both almost two, and still not really sure about each other - both responded as positively as infants could at the news of a new sibling. When Heather was born, Stoick felt the first proper sparks of happiness since Valka... went away. He felt _alive_ for the first time in a while, without a dragon at the other end of his axe anyway.

Both Hiccup and Astrid took on protective roles for the smaller child, and that seemed to even help them bond. At least Stoick wasn't worried they would grow up lonely.

* * *

"Who's got my axe?"

"Not me!"

"I need it for dragon training!"

Hiccup covered his ears, not wanting to think about dragon training. For one, he wasn't allowed to join in and that made him even more the embarrassment of the town. His sisters - Astrid his step- and Heather his half-sibling - were geared up to go practice slaughtering the creatures the next day.

And Hiccup? Hiccup had two options. Stay home, or go away. His step-mother Bertha, who of course had raised him since he was just shy of two years old, was getting on in age and often shooed him from under her feet when Hiccup loitered around the house. So he spent a lot of time in his room, or in the back room of the forge designing things everyone - especially his sisters - called total nonsense.

Against those two, Astrid fearless and strong and Heather fierce and agile, already top of the class for weapons training, Hiccup was even more notably skinny and unimpressive. He struggled to lift the swords he sharpened while apprenticing with Gobber, the blacksmith and his unofficial uncle, let alone hurl an axe one handed.

Hel, Heather was two and a half years his junior and allowed to go to dragon training before him. Hiccup was determined to figure out a way to kill a dragon, to become one of the village at last rather than a remnant memory of his dead mother for his disappointed father.

"Found it!"

"Told you I didn't take it."

Before any further discussions about Astrid's axe could be had, the horn sounded outside - the dragons were attacking. Now was his chance! Hiccup waited for his sisters to leave - they were on fire extinguishing, charged with grabbing buckets of water and hurling it rather ineffectively at wooden houses almost burned to cinders by errant dragon blasts.

"Ah! Where are you going? Get upstairs!"

Their mother hadn't yet left, pulling on her armour and weapon to join in the defending of Berk.

"But mom-"

"No!"

"I'm meant to-"

"No! Upstairs!"

Grumbling, Hiccup clambered up the stairs, immediately lying on the floor where he could watch to see his step-mother leave. He knew better than to go out front - Bertha would absolutely wait, knowing Hiccup's penchant for sneaking out. Clutching his dagger, Hiccup slipped out the back door, circled slowly and saw his mother waiting by the front, expecting Hiccup to run straight into her as he had done before.

But a screeching Monstrous Nightmare attack drew her away, and Hiccup was able to slip by unnoticed. He was small and quick, but equally so that made him recognisable.

"What are you doing out?"

"Get inside!"

Before he could even cross half the square, staring enviously at where his sisters looked cool and dramatic as they ran with buckets into burning buildings as he ran, Hiccup felt a meaty hand close around his collar and bodily haul him backwards.

"What are you doing out again? Get inside!"

His dad shoved him, Hiccup stumbling as he kept running. Knowing he wouldn't be able to sneak off under his fathers glare, he reluctantly headed to the forge.

"Nice of you to show up for work! Thought you'd been carried off."

"Who me? I'm way too muscular for their tastes!"

They moved around each other in a fairly practiced manner, repairing weapons that were dented and battered by dragon hide or flame. When a dragon came tumbling down nearby, Gobber saw Hiccup lean out wistfully, itching to go and prove himself. Prepared, he hooked Hiccups tunic and hauled him back.

"Please? I need to make my mark!"

"You've made plenty of marks, all in the wrong places!"

"I'll kill a dragon! I might even get a date!"

"You can't lift a hammer! You can't swing an axe! You can't even throw one of these!"

Gobber waved a bola, which was ripped from his hand and hurled toward a dragon. Hiccup indicated his bola-slinging contraption, grinning.

"This will throw it for me!"

As Hiccup patted it, it accidentally flung the bola, and with no room to untangle it was effectively small but heavy balls cracking someone square in the helmet. The Viking dropped like a stone, so Hiccup winced slightly.

"Seriously?"

"Mild calibration error!"

Gobber kept trying to talk him down, but eventually he had to go help fight, leaving Hiccup by himself. As soon as he was unobserved, Hiccup reloaded his shooter, pulled on his fur vest and began running for his life with the bola-firer bouncing precariously on its wheels as he dashed between several dozen tussles between Viking and dragon.

"What're you doing?"

"Get back inside!"

"Yep, be right back!"

He made it up the hill, giving him a clear shot across the horizon. Of course, there were exactly zero dragons there to aim at.

"Come on, give me something to shoot at..."

Hiccup had all but given up when he heard that distinctive roar, knew it was the one. The _Night Fury._ Hiccup would never get a chance like this again. He scanned the dark sky, spotted the merest shadow flit across otherwise bright stars. He took aim, closed his eyes and fired, praying to the gods the entire time.

Against all odds, Hiccup heard it make purchase, saw the Night Fury go hurtling down toward Raven Point. Ecstatic, Hiccup began cheering. He was promptly chased by a rather pissed off Monstrous Nightmare, and there _might_ have been a mishap or two as he was chased through the village by five thousand pounds of angry firebreathing lizard.

Unsurprisingly, nobody believed Hiccup when he said he hit a Night Fury. His sisters and the other kids laughed and joked at his expense as Gobber dragged him home, but that was nothing new. As soon as Gobber dropped him off, Hiccup ran through the hut and jumped out the back again.

He'd find that downed dragon. Then he would show all of them.

-HTTYD-

**This might be one of the worst things I've ever written and don't be surprised if I take it down again but hey here is a brief thing about how I'm gonna write a messy ol' Heathcupstrid with incest and pseudo-incest at some point.**

**HTTYD incest. Canon verse. And not Valcup! Who'da thunk it.**

**I still hate this.**


	3. Regal

**It initially came from a joking chat of what constitutes a** **_modern_ ** **AU but sort of tumbled down a hill into a giant snowball that now becomes a story...**

**Pairings will include Hiccup/Valka/Astrid/Heather and a multitude of variations thereupon. It's set in the 1850s.**

**There's too much intricacy to go into all at once up here, so we'll go with the content warnings and learn as we go.**

**Talk of character death will occur. Uh. Period-consistent homophobia from external characters. Incest (Valka/Hiccup). Lots of sexy times between 2 to 4 people. I think thats everything. Damn intro authors notes.**

-HTTYD-

Grimacing as he straightened up, Hiccup cursed his leg but smiled at the work he'd just checked. The stitching was flawless, the cut perfect. Even the fussiest of fussy old noblewomen could not possibly fault _this_ dress. Granted, she'd probably think less of it on principle if she knew how young he was, but that was why Hiccup lied about his age.

That, and it helped explain why he was an unwed dressmaker - if everyone knew his true age, they would assume he was _different._ There were a few mutters as it was, but between his false age, his false leg and his hard work, he was mostly left to be a war-wounded, bitter loner who happened to be a fantastic dressmaker. He was a tailor to men too, but the dresses were what kept him making money, kept his shop going strong enough to support himself.

It wasn't like he had much choice; he had no parents after all.

Hiccup had been raised by his dad, and only his dad. He barely remembered his mother. From what he remembered - his dad hadn't liked to talk about her - she had simply vanished on them. His father was an heir to _his_ fathers title, as the eldest brother, but Stoick had a great sense of service and protection, and so naturally he'd gravitated to military service. His posting took him far from where he and his wife were set up, and Stoick brought Hiccup with him. His mother had been meant to join them.

She never did.

For all he knew, she was dead. Or maybe remarried, with more children. Hel, Hiccup could walk past her in the street and not know it, with the blurry memories that were all he had left of her.

"Is my order ready yet Haddock?"

No hello, no manners. Hiccup was pretty sure the woman had been taught better than that. Apparently her etiquette training didn't extend to her dressmaker. Rolling his eyes inwardly, Hiccup brushed a few bits of scrap fabric from his thighs before straightening his posture and heading through to the front. He added the shortest, barely-genuine bow to his greeting, teeth grit against the urge to tell her to go away - she was horrid to deal with, but his richest, highest-paying customer, and the possible avenue to more recommendations for people in her price bracket that could elevate his income and reputation hugely.

"Lady Stewart. The evening gown, yes?"

"Are you incompetent?"

"No, just very busy and want to ensure you get the correct attire."

"I should think I am a priority."

Given the rush she paid for, Hiccup _had_ prioritised her over half a dozen other projects.

"Of course. You wouldn't want to go home with someone elses clothes would you? I'll just go get it now."

Naturally, she scoured every inch of it, searching for a missed stitch or a bit of ragged fabric. With a grunt of acceptance, she dropped the money pouch on the counter and swept off out. Waiting until the door had closed behind her, blocking the brisk wind outside, Hiccup let out the breath he'd been holding, posture sinking slightly to something more comfortable for his stupid injured limb. He'd barely signed up for the Navy when his father was killed in action in the Army, and before Hiccup had really dealt with the death, he was off to fight himself against the illegal slave trades in Africa.

There, he'd been injured, losing his foot and a little of his leg, getting discharged from the Navy in the process. His prosthetic wasn't amazing, but it was better than not being able to walk. Or not coming back at all. Others, he knew, weren't so lucky. Other men, barely more than boys, had never come home.

He'd tried to... but _that_ hadn't worked. So, with nobody else, Hiccup had to figure out life on his own. A dab hand at sewing after learning to repair his uniform at sea, and uncommonly dextrous before that, the wounded 'hero' had found work as a dressmakers aide. The man he'd worked for was old, barely lasted long enough to apprentice Hiccup to a point he could work unsupervised before he retired, and died only a little after that. Even then, he was fairly rare in being a lone male worker, though that might have been his rampant misogyny.

Strangely, the man had never married.

Hiccup took over the shop, and though it wasn't much cop there was a steady stream of working-class customers who needed ready-made clothes that kept the minimum costs covered. And, with his attention to detail, Hiccup had landed himself a well-off customer who noticed the 'uncommonly fine' work on the dress of her childrens governness. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Stewart made sure he knew that she was doing _him_ a favour, dangled the prospect of 'advertising' him to the rest of society some time, but

If he landed a couple more high-paying customers who wanted the tailored, one-of-a-kind dresses Hiccup specialised in, he'd be able to hire another, train someone, elevate himself to 'boss' rather than 'lone worker'.

It might be nice to have company... Hiccup didn't speak to many people. He lived above the shop, spent all his time making things, buying fabric, selling clothes.

A couple of customers came in that day for his cheap shirts and trousers, another couple in for measurements and one man in to have his suit adjusted. Hiccup spent every minute in between customers working on his stack of projects, weaving fabric around the crinoline. They were new - Hiccup left when women only had starched petticoats to support their dress, and came back just in time for the invention of a cage that held up skirts. If he landed richer customers, he'd need to be a master of the new cages. He was already skilled, but still.

There was a wave of the working servants in his store fairly soon after Stewart picked up her dress, only a matter of days and Hiccup realised that the new Season was upon them. He had a pretty solid reputation for high quality work to those who came in, even for the price - materials cost the same, it was his labour Hiccup was told he undercharged for, but he'd rather be affordable and have steady business, and not take advantage of peoples limited funds by offering sub-par work. So, as he kitted out those expected to look like servants but still presentable, Hiccup chewed on his bitter loneliness as he heard passing people in the street talk about all the potential upcoming engagements.

"Are you sure this is the place girls?"

"I swear, she told me it was the one with the fish drawn in the window."

"There is a fish, and _that_ looks like the dress she mentioned in the window."

Voices sounded outside, one older and softer, two younger and more excitable. Brushing himself down - new customers? - Hiccup waited to see if they came in, leg twinging anxiously.

"She did say it didn't look like much from the outside either, but you _saw_ that dress!"

"Quite, I did. Well, let's not loiter outside any longer. I'd be remiss in letting you catch a chill."

The little bell rang as the door opened, and Hiccup immediately wished he'd dusted as he saw the soft leather boots, intricate lacing a dead giveaway to someone who made clothes for a living. These were women of standing, probably of money - the two younger, at least. The older... she was looking at Hiccup rather oddly, but her attire suggested domestic work. Not a governess, but perhaps a lady's maid?

"Can I help you ladies?"

He painted a slightly strange picture to new custom, he knew - a tape measure around his neck, a pencil behind his ear, little handy pouches of needle or thread randomly attached to his arm or belt or sometimes tucked into a shirt pocket, creating a peculiar bulge. Then there was the leg, and his messy hair - grown out from its military cut - and diluted accent and the freckles of someone part-Scottish who had spent time near Africa.

"Yeah. We were... referred, is that the word? Referred by a woman who I think wants me to marry her son."

"Heather!"

The older woman finally tore her eyes from Hiccup, scolded the dark haired younger, the younger blonde woman looking around the shop before settling back on Hiccup.

"What? She does! Anyway. She said that you were good, and unknown, which appeals to me for reasons I will get yelled at by my Lady's maid for disclosing. So, do you have any examples to show us?"

"I do, they are further back though, I try not to let the front of store get too cluttered and many of my customers are men."

Learning by the way they looked to 'Heather' first, Hiccup surmised he had a Lady, a Lady's companion and a Lady's maid in his shop. He understood more about nobility than most of the local peasantry, he'd wager. The older woman definitely wasn't Heather's mother, he could tell by the way their body language responded to each others proximity.

"Those aren't complete, but these are."

Stewart was old-school, still wore starched petticoat skirts. If Hiccup wanted to move on up a little? He'd need younger blood, women who wanted his hoop skirts. He'd tried them on himself, testing the way they twirled (when the store was closed, naturally) and that he'd balanced the fabric-to-cage ratio right. He knew how to fit them to a body once he'd measured them. He just needed the _chance_ to prove it.

"You _made_ this. By yourself? From scratch?"

"I made everything in here. Well, not the furniture, but everything made from fabric or leather are mine."

He was half-expecting a reprimand from the Lady's maid for his cavalier sarcasm, but she was still... _looking_ at him. It was a little strange, honestly.

"Wow. Alright, Stewart wasn't kidding about undiscovered talent I guess. Astrid and I need dresses."

"Occasion?"

"A ball, one potential suitors may be in attendance at."

"Evening then, I take it?"

"Indeed."

Pulling his tape measure from around his neck, Hiccup approached 'Heather' in slow, steady steps.

"May I take your measurements?"

"Can you be trusted?"

There was something playful in her smile, but it was hardly the time or place for Hiccup to engage in anything that could be even slightly miscontrued as inappropriate. Especially when asking a woman of such standing to take off a few articles of clothing so he could measure her properly.

"I'm a professional."

Heather slipped off her shawl, her hat, her gloves and her maid took those and her bag, letting Hiccup navigate his way around her with his tape measure, lifting and relaxing and breathing in where asked, indicating where her neckline ought to sit - for daywear, the high collar she had on made measuring to accomodate the right dip more difficult.

"Will you be wearing a camisole, or would you prefer your dress to have a protective shield sewn in? Strictly indoor, or garden party requiring a replaceable ruffle?"

Jotting down her measurements and answers, Hiccup next turned to Astrid, who was already out of her top-layers, bright blue eyes watching him move around her. It required touching, more than he'd be allowed to do in just about any other circumstance, but for Hiccup this part was impersonal, purely functional for work.

"When will they be ready?"

"Well that depends. I do offer a rush service for an additional charge, but for the standard price... a week until both are ready."

He'd be sewing until he bled, until his hands cramped and his fingers refused to cooperate either way, but a week _would_ give Hiccup time to make some more of the cheap, pre-made things people often came to him for in between working the dresses.

"A week is fine. Valka, would you?"

Finally hearing the name of the maid, Hiccup took his up-front payment - covering the expensive materials he'd need, as well as effectively securing his time to be spent upon the project. Bidding the two ladies and the maid goodbye, Hiccup watched absently as layers went back on, mind starting to plan shapes and cuts and a special stitch he liked using on the inside-shield that would prevent perspiration staining the dress.

Fingers touched his cheek, surprising everyone, it seemed.

"How old are you?"

Hiccup answered - he used a false name for safety, a false age for respect. With his military wound, he hadn't had much trouble with disbelief of identity. Valka frowned, shaking her head before turning.

"I apologise. I thought- never mind. Come along girls."

Confused, Hiccup waited for the door to close before raising his hand to his face, covering where Valka had touched him. It had been oddly intimate - he touched customers all the time for work. It wasn't often somebody touched _him._

His cheek was still tingling hours later.

-HTTYD-

**Ugh this could be straight nonsense for all I know. Probably needs some finetuning to be actually Victorian. I'm not much cop at history, but I'm trying.**


	4. Voyeur

**Ok, you guys don't seem to understand Future Firsties. These stories** **_will_ ** **get written. I just like having a solid base to start with, and I'm a lot more likely to actually commit to something that isn't just a vague, floating idea.  
**

**But I'm not good at organising, so I can't promise when any will start. If you follow me at all, you'll know I'm already juggling a bunch of stories and several are already neglected. Future Firsties was made as a way for me to solidify an idea, so I could focus on something else. Patience appreciated.**

**This is... it's not straight up Hiccstrid, but it's also not _not_ Hiccstrid.**

-HTTYD-

"It's pretty simple really. If you make a mess, clean it up and I won't have to kill you in your sleep. Kitchen. Bathroom. If you're obsessive about showering at certain times, then now would be a good time to mention it. And that's your bedroom."

Hiccup blinked, brain honestly still a little short-circuited from earlier, when he'd knocked on to come see a room he planned to rent and the door had been answered by an incredibly attractive blonde in shorts and a form-fitting running tee. She'd mentioned he caught her just before she went on a run, and appeared keen to be done with the showing.

"Uh, I usually like to shower before I leave for class, if that's ok?"

"Sure. I work from home mostly, so as long as you don't wake me too early by banging around out here you can do what you like in the morning. Oh, and one more thing, it's only fair to add since the walls are paper thin in here."

"What is it?"

Astrid - the attractive blonde potential flatmate - eyed Hiccup, obviously watching for a response.

"I like sex. I have overnight guests alot. Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Ok, Hiccup had not been expecting this when someone told him a room was available near campus, knowing he was desperate to get away from the slovenly pothead working their way toward a total fail at university he currently lived with. Trying to ignore the images in his mind popping up, Hiccup quickly answered.

"Well, I guess not. I just need somewhere to eat, sleep, work and shower. On the same note of _noise,_ I like study music. If it's not while you're sleeping, is that ok?"

Astrid nodded.

"Fine."

After a brief discussion of rent and utlities costs, Hiccup was agreeing to move in the next week - he'd put his notice in with his slightly shady landlord already.

"You better not turn out to be a serial killer or something. I sleep with an axe under my bed."

Was Astrid's parting comment as she shooed him out to go for her run, and honestly? Hiccup sorta believed her.

He picked up a key from her a few days later, working around university to pack up and move by the agreed upon date. His now former cohabitant barely seemed to notice Hiccup leaving, though he'd probably notice when the dirty plates started piling up in the kitchen. Hiccup did let him know, but it didn't seem to go in.

Astrid was a surprisingly pleasant flatmate, once the initial prickling had passed. She had little patience for being annoyed, and Hiccup saw her punch a guy out cold for not taking no for an answer, the first time he invited her along to a party with his friends - it had seemed polite, since they now lived together.

His friends had been so amused they said he was welcome to bring her back anytime.

"So" Astrid, having just risen at eleven in the morning, asked as she slumped over the side clutching coffee "what do you actually study? I haven't asked yet."

Hiccup, who had been awake a couple of hours and was presently making lunch to take with him, so he could go to his lecture and then on to the library to work, answered shortly.

"Aeronautical Engineering."

"Ok, I sorta know what one of those words means."

"Hang on" Hiccup dipped out of the kitchen area, grabbed a prospectus from a box in the living room and dropped it in front of Astrid "here."

"Aeronautical engineering degrees represent the branch of engineering that deals with the research, design, development, construction, testing, science and technology of aircrafts... so you like stuff that flies?"

"Pretty much. I like designing, developing, building. And the rest. It's tough, but I love it."

"Nerd."

Hiccup grinned.

"That's what they tell me. You want food before I go?"

"Nah, I don't eat before I run. Thanks though."

Nodding, Hiccup bade her goodbye, grabbed his stuff and headed out. So long as he was quiet between the hours of midnight and ten am mostly, Hiccup had zero problems living around Astrid. Except perhaps the problem where she didn't wear a lot of clothes, and Hiccup had to not look. Not that Astrid really seemed to mind when she caught him looking once or twice. He got the feeling she _knew_ she was gorgeous, and seemed to operate on a "look-but-don't-touch" with everyone. And Hiccup was very good at keeping his hands to himself.

In return for his quiet while she slept and not leaving a mess everywhere, Astrid was polite enough to let him know - by text or in person - if someone was coming over. Her words of it being quite a regular occurrence were certainly not a lie, but Hiccup figured Astrid knew what she was doing, and could take care of herself. Condom wrappers in the bathroom bin told she was being _careful,_ too.

She was _not_ quiet, though, Hiccup noticed. After a month or so living with her, Hiccup had already worked out how likely it was he'd meet the person the next morning, based on Astrid's vocalisations the night before. Mostly men, but she brought home women regularly too. Sometimes both. If they were good, they generally got to stay the night. If not, Astrid kicked them out more often than not.

Still, she kept it contained to her bedroom as far as Hiccup knew, and it was really none of his business what Astrid did. They just shared a living space - he worked on his degree, she did... actually, Hiccup wasn't sure what Astrid did for a living. She hadn't volunteered that information yet, only that she worked from home mostly.

"Hey, Hiccup?"

"Yeah?"

He looked up from his textbook, Astrid sitting down on the sofa opposite so he put the book down, offered her his undivided attention.

"Does me having people over a lot not... bother you?"

"No. I mean, sometimes it goes on a little late when I have an early lecture, but that's why the gods gave us earplugs. Why?"

Astrid shrugged.

"It's sorta why my last flatmate moved out. Well. I kicked her out for calling me all the usual. Slut, whore, that sort of thing."

"Oh. Well, no. I don't... you're a consenting adult doing stuff with other consenting adults. If you were a guy bringing home a different girl most nights, _nobody_ would bat an eye, and I don't have double standards. It's not my business so long as I don't find bodily fluids in places they shouldn't be."

She laughed.

"I will bear that in mind. I just wanted to be sure. You're real easy to live with, I'd hate to have to try and find someone as not-annoying as you all over again."

"Then we have no problem."

Shifting to cross her legs more comfortably, Astrid smiled.

"I'm glad."

Then she glanced at her phone.

"Expecting company tonight?"

"Not sure yet. Talking to a couple of guys on Tinder. Might hit up my ex if they don't work out. I'll let you know if anything definite is happening."

He already knew she and her ex boyfriend had a friends-with-benefits deal going on, hitting each other up if they were hard up. Hiccup headed to the kitchen to cook himself dinner, Astrid declining since she'd not long got back from a run and a protein shake. Humming to himself as he stirred, Astrid appeared a few minutes later.

"Well?"

"Ex texted me before I texted him, he'll be by in about an hour. That ok?"

"Sure."

Hiccup ate, cleaned up his mess and headed to his room in plenty of time for Astrid's 'date' of the evening to turn up. He'd met the ex in question a few times; he seemed like a good guy, he and Astrid just realised they weren't long-term compatible and broke off the relationship, though apparently the sex was good enough that they kept that part up. Putting his earplugs in well in advance, Hiccup got an early night for his early lecture.

Astrid and her guest had not yet risen from the bedsheets when he was leaving, though that didn't surprise Hiccup one bit. Cramming breakfast into his mouth, Hiccup headed off to uni. Halfway there, he remembered leaving his textbook on the living room table the night before, cursing. He needed it for studying after, and the library never seemed to have a copy when he needed it.

Swearing under his breath, Hiccup climbed the stairs to their place, knowing he'd be late for his lecture now. He so hated being late. The door wasn't locked, so he stepped in, distraction of lateness and textbook fading somewhat when Hiccup realised what he'd walked in on.

He couldn't see _everything,_ but gods Hiccup could see enough.

Astrid, shoulders bare and the tantalising peek of equally bare breasts visible through her hair as she rose up and down. Her hair was still down, loose, a little wavy from being braided the night before. The back of the sofa obscured most of his view, but between Astrid's movements and the noises he could hear, Hiccup was pretty certain he'd accidentally intruded on her having sex in the living room.

He should leave. He could live without the textbook. If he ran, he might only be a couple of minutes late. Unfortunately, Hiccup's feet appeared to be glued to the floor, and his eyes glued... somewhere they probably shouldn't be. Astrid did not appear to have noticed him. Hiccup thought about coughing, or clearing his throat or perhaps fainting on the spot, but his brain had frozen up somewhat. She kept going, riding her lover, moaning and arching her back as Astrid chased her pleasure from the others body.

Then, just when Hiccup thought he might spontaneously combust from arousal and embarrassment rolled into one, his cheeks flushing as more blood pumped south...

Astrid turned toward him and _winked._

Fuck, she knew he was there. Knew he was watching. Hiccup really ought to go.

He didn't; he was still rooted to the spot when Astrid began to shake, making those sounds Hiccup had learned through the walls by now that meant she was in the throes of climax, head thrown back as she bucked and cried out. Even then, she didn't stop, moving until there were answering sounds of satisfaction from the man underneath her. After a minute, sounds of ragged breathing all that broke the silence, Astrid turned toward him again, doing a double take.

"Hiccup!"

Why was she acting surprised he was there? Hiccup was confused.

"Wait, what does your roommate have to do with this?"

"Nothing. Except he's right there."

A familiar-ish face appeared around level with Astrid's chest.

"Oh. Uh. Hey Hiccup."

"Hi Eret. I uh... I just..." what had he come back for again? "I forgot my... textbook. I didn't see anything! I uh, I am gonna go now."

"Wait" what in _Hel_ could Astrid want him to stick around for "here."

As if seeing if she could actually make him burst a blood vessel or spontaneously combust, Astrid leant over toward the table, then rose higher on her knees and Hiccup got a very blatant view of her naked chest as she held out his textbook. It felt like a challenge. Especially when she was smirking just a little.

"Uh. Thanks."

Hiccup stayed as far away as he could. grabbed his book quickly and did his best not to simply sprint out of the front door. Oh gods, had Astrid noticed he was hard? Probably. She was usually pretty observant. Determinedly ignoring said erection, Hiccup headed off to university. He was too late to really bother going to lecture, but he tracked down a classmate and asked for the missed work in the library.

"Since when do you miss any?"

"I forgot my book and had to go back, by the time I got going again it was too late to go."

Justin handed over his notes for Hiccup to copy out, chatting about the content all the while. Hiccup may or may not have spent longer than he needed in the library that day, and it might have been so he didn't have to go home and deal with the awkwardness of catching Astrid in the act of sex with her ex.

Even so, he couldn't put it off forever, and Astrid would _know_ exactly why he was avoiding their place. So reluctantly, Hiccup headed back after finishing catching up with Justin and his work. Astrid was in the kitchen, looked up when he came in but didn't immediately accuse him of being a pervert. Was that good?

"Hi. Uh, sorry about earlier."

Taking a swallow from her glass, eyes never leaving his, Astrid smirked.

"Are you though? Cus I can't help but notice you didn't leave."

"I was... shocked."

_"Just_ shocked?"

The situation was rapidly losing control, Hiccup decided. How was he supposed to answer?

"Mhmm."

"Shame."

Hiccup blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"I said it was a shame you were only shocked. Cus I gotta admit, I kinda liked it."

"You... what?"

Astrid shrugged, nonchalant and not even slightly mortified like Hiccup still sort of was.

"I liked it. Guess I had a voyeur kink I didn't know about. I'll be remembering that."

She walked past him, drink in hand as she headed toward her bedroom. Hiccup tried not to say it, but the words blurted themselves out anyway.

"I liked it too."

-HTTYD-

**I totally am not procrastinating anything while writing this, nuh uh. Ok. Maybe a little. But hey, a new FF!**


	5. Making A Killing

**So, that writing-prompts thing about a serial killer and a writer dating...**

**Here it is! Largely formed by a few people on the ATOV discord server.  
**

**The fic will be dark, though I don't _plan_ on the kill scenes being in excruciating detail or anything, there will be like, a serial killer character so if you're squeamish or looking for the fluffiest fluff ever... this isn't it for you.**

**Is a Hiccstrid fic. Will more than likely contain smut in future.**

-HTTYD-

"So, there's been a murder. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

Astrid raised an eyebrow at the oversized moron in front of her.

"Excuse me? What would I know about a _murder?"_

Having police officers turn up at her workplace had been _surreal._ Even more so that they were there to talk about a _murder._ Astrid hoped she wasn't fired. Then she'd be forced to kill the copper in front of her for costing her a half-decent job that supported her in between books.

"Because you wrote it."

A copy of her book - only published a few months ago, and not exactly tearing up the Bestsellers lists - landed on the table in front of her. In an _evidence bag._ It was like... like... like a scene from a book or TV show. She couldn't help it. She laughed.

"Are you kidding me?"

"This is a serious matter Miss Hofferson."

"How, exactly? You think I killed someone because I wrote a killer in a book? Next you'll arrest Bram Stoker for vampirism. When was this supposed to have happened, exactly?"

They weren't enamoured with her attitude, Astrid could tell. If they tried anything else, she'd be pulling the 'am I under arrest' card right away, but if they gave her a time and she could disprove it, she hoped it would get them to leave her alone.

"Three nights ago, at..." he checked a folder "a quarter past midnight. Where were you at that time?"

"Tuesday... probably crying over my keyboard."

"You were what?"

"I was writing."

"Can anyone verify that?"

Astrid rolled her eyes.

"No, I live alone. But you can check with my service provider that I was online, googling how quickly somebody can bleed out from various arteries."

"Excuse me?"

"Like I said. I was writing. I'm working on my next book. Check with my service provider. I'm free to go, right?"

Reluctantly, they had to let her go since Astrid wasn't under arrest. Stepping back outside, she rolled her eyes some more, stretched after the horrid chair they gave her left her stiff, then headed back to work. Her shift was over, but Astrid thought she should check back with her boss. She'd probably find it hilarious - she'd read Astrid's book after all.

"They really thought that?"

"Apparently! Do I look like a murderer?"

Her boss looked her up and down, shrugging with a short laugh.

"Depends on the day. Don't worry about it, see you tomorrow. Try not to turn to a life of crime."

"No promises!"

Astrid left feeling relieved she wasn't in trouble with the boss, then headed home after a stop off at the shop. She was out of coffee, and writers lived on caffeine. That and wine, but she had work early the next day. Getting drunk was not her wisest thought. A lazy meal of reheated rice and chicken later, Astrid had changed into her pyjamas again and was back at her keyboard, ready to emotionally bleed on the keyboard and type until she passed out from exhaustion.

Not that she wrote anything beyond repeatedly typing and deleting " _I HATE WRITERS BLOCK!"_ over and over again. But some nights were like that. She did look up a list of fancy knives though, and that led to a list of rare foods, followed by most popular alcohol all around the world... three hours later, Astrid's eyes burned from the screen glare and she'd gotten nothing done. Resigning herself, she downed her cold coffee and went to brush her teeth before bed.

Naturally, she got several new ideas as soon as she tried to sleep. Astrid was prepared, scribbled them in the notepad she kept next to her bed for that very purpose. A few more notes went down, handwriting a total mess as they were done when she'd not quite opened her eyes, let alone had coffee. Astrid glanced at her bed, saw the stuffed animal that slept on the side where most people would probably keep a girlfriend or boyfriend.

How did _anyone_ think she was a killer?

Hel, Astrid only left the house for work or to go to the gym/running. And sometimes for pastries from the bakery, because she was friends with one of the girls who worked there and got discounts on her danish treats. When did she have time to go on a killing spree, really? Astrid had looked up the event in question she'd been quizzed over, and apparently they were tracking a serial killer.

For all her research in murders to write her book, Astrid hadn't been aware a serial killer was 'working' so close to where she lived. They'd been getting away with it a while, it seemed. There were several articles on the killer, dubbed 'Night Fury' by the papers as they always attacked in the dark, and usually so viciously the victims were barely recognisable. The only identifier they had was that the Night Fury always found a patch of bare skin, and left a burned brand there in the shape of a dragon. A peculiar calling card, but Astrid knew it wasn't exactly easy to put rationality on the actions of a killer.

_Stop it._

Her writer brain wanted to talk to the Night Fury. They sounded fascinating from a psychological point of view. Then Astrid applied some logic, and remembered they might well kill her. She read more. The police had _no_ leads, really. They tried to spin it, but this one was incredibly elusive, and nobody had worked out their pattern. They killed in different ways, sometimes with a knife, some choked, some beaten...

The only advice to keep safe from the Night Fury at night?

" _Hide and pray they do not find you."_

Which was extraordinarily unhelpful, when she thought about it. At least most of his victims were men - Astrid found one that attributed fifteen kills to him, others reckoned even more, but only four had been women. All with boyfriends or girlfriends they were suspected of abusing... perhaps the Night Fury was a vigilante type. Astrid closed the tab on her screen.

Then googled the name again.

Her mother was right. She _did_ like serial killers too much. But Astrid was nothing if not committed, and she had books to write and a publisher deadline to meet. She was... researching. It wasn't like she was going to go out at night, hoping to run into them...

Astrid was considerably more knowledgeable on the matter when the police wanted to talk to her again. That time, they quizzed her about people she knew - Astrid now knew they were asking about the victims, trying to make connections. They failed miserably; Astrid was not social enough to know that many people, only one had gone to the same gym as her and she'd never seen him there. And she had alibis she could remember for three others.

"Then how did you get these details?"

"I wrote that book _before_ the murder you pulled me in for before. This book is available to the general public. Maybe _they_ got the idea from me. But I don't know. I am assuming there's a finite amount of ways to murder someone, and you're intentionally being sketchy with details in the hopes I'll slip up and say something 'only the killer would know' or whatever" Astrid made sure to add air quotes, so they understood her contempt "and honestly it's ridiculous. You know it isn't me. I'm leaving."

"Don't leave town Miss Hofferson."

"I barely even leave my desk."

She left the station with no official murder charges, which she supposed was a good thing, and headed for the bus. Since it was her day off, the police had interrupted Astrid's very busy plans of heading to the shop for food. Tugging her phone out of her pocket, Astrid scrolled through the contact list and tapped on Ruff's number. She'd find it _hilarious_ that Astrid had been questioned for murder. _Again._

* * *

"You need to be careful."

He rolled his eyes as she gestured to the newspaper, only a few lines on page five about the Night Fury this time.

"I haven't been caught yet. Have you taken your meds?"

Hiccup asked his mother, who nodded and glared but eventually let him help her stand up. He cared for her, but she was also where his stubborn nature had come from. Their house was aid-adapted for them both - downstairs bathrooms and bedrooms, grab rails, everything spaced to allow wheelchairs through since both he and his mother used them sometimes. Valka had mobility problems, Hiccup wore a prosthetic leg.

"Go lay down. I won't be gone long. Do you need anything?"

"If they have those little marshmallow things..."

"Do I ever forgot the marshmallow things? Come on mom, I know you too well."

Ensuring Valka was in her bed to get some rest, Hiccup bade her goodbye and grabbed his jacket from the rack, shrugged a backpack over his shoulders. It was light out, his mother had no reason to worry.

Hiccup was the _Night_ Fury after all.

Making his way to the bus stop, Hiccup saw only one neighbour, but then they lived on one of those quirky roads with only a couple of houses dotted along. The house next to theirs was empty, had been for years. It seemed a waste.

He could drive, but only did that for big shopping trips. They were only out of a few things, and he had a disability bus pass so technically, the bus was cheaper than driving and since it wasn't cold out, nothing really ached too much. He got on the bus, then off at the pharmacy, picked up the prescriptions and tried to ignore the overly friendly pharmacist who wanted to set Hiccup up with their daughter.

_Trust me, I'm not the sort of man you want her to bring home._

There was an electronics shop near the pharmacy, and Hiccup caught sight of the news, complete with the police yet again searching for leads and urging the public to come forward if they knew anything about the terrible, terrible murder that happened.

Why would anyone know anything? Hiccup was good at eluding witnesses.

He got on the next bus, groaning inwardly when he saw it was almost full. There were two pushchairs, so no disabled seating. Hiccup did so hate having to sit next to other people, they never had sense of personal space and they were always on phones, being loud and just generally making him twitchy. Hiccup wasn't much a fan of people. Though he supposed that wasn't a surprise, given what he'd done to quite a few by then.

Glancing around, he spotted someone looking out of the window, and on their phone. They ought to leave him alone at least. Perching on the seat, Hiccup leant back and tried to zone out the hustle and bustle around him.

"-right down to the way he was hit around the head with a pipe, apparently."

 _That_ got his attention. Hiccup glanced at the woman sat next to him, though he could only really see blonde hair and a slim, toned arm. Everything else was turned away or covered by clothes. He looked away, but listened more closely. He'd hit someone in the head with a pipe recently. That couldn't be a coincidence. The woman waited for whoever was on the other end to answer, then continued.

"Well yeah, it was a good way to kill them. Disfiguring too. And then there was the brand..."

Hiccup frowned as she continued. The details were a little too familiar... Did she _know_ something? He never hunted in daylight, but still... this woman needed to be checked out. It wouldn't do to get sloppy now. That could have gotten him caught. Then there'd be nobody to take care of his mother.

"I gotta go, call you later."

Blonde woman was done on the phone. She turned to Hiccup, and he'd be _lying_ if he said he didn't notice she was pretty. Big blue eyes ran over his face, soft pink lips parting to speak.

"This is my stop."

"Oh. Mine too."

It wasn't. Hiccup got up anyway, making his way down the middle of the seats with her close behind him. They both got off when the bus stopped, Hiccup surreptitously eyeing the direction she went while pretending to check something on his phone. He spared a second to wonder how people pretended to be distracted before mobile phones were commonplace.

Then he followed her. Hiccup was pretty good at not being noticed.

She walked on to a supermarket. That was handy enough, he supposed. Hiccup did his shopping while keeping an eye on her, barely remembering his mothers marshmallow treats before he managed to get behind blonde woman at the till. Maybe he could catch sight of an ID in her purse... she was buying alcohol. He was in luck. Hiccup apologised as he leant across a little too close to her to reach for a bottle of water, and managed to spot her name on the drivers license.

_Hofferson, Astrid._

He paid for his things after her, name tucked away in his brain to look up later. Hiccup was good on a computer. If she was a police offers daughter or a forensic scientist in training? He'd know very soon...

She was waiting outside. For him.

"Are you following me?"

Hiccup shook his head.

"No. Shopping."

"So its coincidence that you sat next to me, got off at my stop, walked just far enough behind me that I wasn't supposed to notice and then you were behind me at the till?"

With her arms crossed, pretty mouth pulled into a frown, Hiccup was pretty sure she was rumbled.

"I wasn't following you."

"Riiiight. I'm a writer, by the way."

Hiccup frowned in confusion.

"What?"

"What you overheard. On the bus. I'm a writer. I was talking about a book I was working on."

_Oh. A book._

"I suppose thats reassuring."

"Tell that to the cops. They pulled me in for questioning cus there was a murder like my story a little while ago."

Hiccup winced inwardly. That was kinda his bad, he supposed. How was he supposed to know someone had written it? He wasn't much a fan of murder mysteries. They always seemed to end in the killer getting caught, and usually for a stupid reason. Hiccup didn't make stupid mistakes.

"Should I be worried?"

Astrid Hofferson smiled. She had a pretty smile.

"Nah. I don't think you're the Night Fury's type."

Hiccup bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something stupid.

"What's the name of your book?"

"Broken. It's kinda lame, but the publisher and editor just sorta... talked over me about it. I guess it fits the focus of the killer. Still, first books are rarely perfect. You can buy it in there if you're curious."

Astrid Hofferson gestured to the shop they had just exited.

"I will."

She smiled again, then reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Hiccup was very confused when she presented it to him, 'New Contact' tab open.

"What's this for?"

"I wanna ask if you liked it."

Hiccup knew it was a bad idea - then again, wasn't murder? - but he liked the spark in her eye and the curve of her smile. So he took the phone. Typed in his number, and added a name.

"Hiccup? Really? Please tell me thats a nickname."

"It is. How did you know I wouldn't just run off with your phone?"

"I didn't. But I did know you'd never outrun me."

The challenge in her face made his stomach flutter. Hiccup smiled back, the expression feeling almost foreign on his face to anyone other than his mother.

"I better go pick up that book then."

"Catch you later Hiccup. You'll be hearing from me."

She _winked,_ and then she left. Hiccup stared after her, wondering what the hel had just happened. Then he turned around and went to buy her book. If nothing else, he needed to see how similar their murders really were.

He headed home, book feeling like it weighed a ton in his backpack where it was wedged between teabags, milk and peanut butter. Valka was still sleeping, so he put the book on the table, packed away the shopping and made a cup of tea, opening his laptop next to his book and getting to work looking this Astrid Hofferson up. It seemed she really was just a writer from what he found. Boring job, probably to make ends meet while she worked on her writing career. Parents alive, but again with the unremarkable jobs. No relatives in law enforcement at all. Her bank statements showed a lot of payments for pastry, coffee and a gym membership, but other than that... he couldn't find much.

"Hey mom."

"Hello Hiccup. What are you doing?"

"Checking this girl isn't stalking me."

His mother gave a passing sound of assent, then did a double take.

"Excuse me?"

He showed her the book, elaborated on the strange turn of events while Valka chewed on little fluffy sweets.

"I was just about to read it, but since you're up let me take a look at your scar."

She sighed, but lifted her jumper to expose the smattering of marks across her side and back, each one Hiccup remembered seeing her get the original injury of. He'd never forget the hissing, crackling, the _stench_ of skin burning where his stepfather amused himself by putting out lit cigarettes on his wife. Of course, Hiccup relived those moments, experienced that smell again when he went out at night. Each time felt like a catharsis, though the feeling never lasted. There were other scars too, some which troubled her and one a recent one from an operation on her back, trying to repair some of the damage done to her before. It had been tough healing, so Hiccup had to keep an eye on it.

"Looks good. You have a check up next week, remember."

"I know."

He made fresh tea for he and his mother, then a peanut butter sandwich before heading out with Valka to sit in the garden. It wasn't much of one, and it was poorly maintained but they had grass and backyard chickens, and it got the sun on their faces without having to go far. Chewing on his sandwich, Hiccup started reading.

-HTTYD-

**I wonder how many people saw the first line of the top authors note and expected _Astrid_ to be the serial killer... heheh.**


	6. Aftermath

**I never forgot! A new unrelated!Valcup for those who are in to that.**

**I put Hiccup about 19 in this first chapter, and Valka about... 35? I have reasons, y'all know I love Valka being an older woman.**

**Contains non-incestuous Valcup smut.**

-HTTYD-

The sound of the door knocking had Valka rise up from her seat, checking through the peephole and seeing exactly who she wanted to on the other side. He grinned when she pulled the door open, small bag slung over his shoulder and slim-fitting jeans and jumper hugging his lean frame.

"Evening milady."

"Oh do get in."

Valka didn't want the neighbours seeing him. Though by then, if they didn't know _something_ was going on in Valka's home, she'd be amazed. Hiccup dropped his bag and kicked the door shut behind him, his body against hers seconds later. Arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed her hungrily, Valka enjoying the soft feel of his jumper under her hands as she ran them down his back.

"I could barely think about anything else after that _text_ you sent me earlier" Hiccup growled, voice ragged and breathy as his hand moved to untie her dressing gown "so I hope you don't mind a quickie first."

When this... _thing_ first began, Valka would never have dared with something like lewd text messages. But Hiccup always leapt on her the second he got there when he'd been anticipating, and Valka loved his rough, eager touch. Dressing gown on the floor already, Hiccup was backing her toward the sofa. Her bed was too far for right now, callused fingers mapping her chest before his hands cupped her ass, squeezing. Valka moaned against his demanding mouth, already wet for him as Hiccup laid her on the cushions, undoing his belt and zipper before he climbed up on top of her.

Valka spread her legs, felt him lay between them as he kissed her neck and dragged his cock against her clit, smirking against her skin when Valka bucked into him. Gods, how did he arouse her so? His stubble rasped against her fingers when she touched his face, felt Hiccup's mouth crash clumsily against hers, panting as his cock pressed inside her with one swift thrust. Oh, how she loved the feel of him bare, thankful they'd had that conversation months before so they didn't have to bother with condoms any longer.

Hiccup fucked her with that wonderful urgency _she_ had inspired in him, blistering pace of quick, sharp thrusts that had them both gasping and moaning, Hiccup grunting and swearing in between sloppy kisses, his hand braced against the arm of the sofa to help stop Valka being shoved painfully into it. They were both shuddering through a messy climax in little time, though Valka knew it was only the beginning as Hiccup slumped against her, panting into her neck.

He was old enough to be a man, but young enough that Valka enjoyed his short refractory period and vigour, eager and happy to go again and again until Valka was as satisfied as he was.

Not that Valka dwelled too much on his age. Then she'd remember how much _older_ she was than him. Not that it ever stopped Hiccup. He was _insatiable._

"Oh fuck, I needed that."

Hiccup hummed, softening as he pulled out of her and stretching. His eyes slid down her bare body, desire written across his face. It was hard not to get hooked on someone looking at her like _that,_ and it had been a long time since her ex-husband had done so when Valka first met Hiccup. He was the son of one of her friends she'd not seen in years, and Hiccup had been a wee little lad of twelve then.

Then he'd landed in her life, eighteen and _gorgeous_ and gods Valka had the most inappropriate crush. It felt like a cliche; she'd taken her car to get fixed, and there he was in overalls and covered in grease, laughing when it became clear Valka didn't recognise him. He recognised her. A 'catch up' chat where Valka had expected just to hear about him growing up the last few years, maybe some tales about his mother... had somehow ended with him in her bed. A place he kept returning to, a little too often really but Valka was a _little_ addicted.

Her hands shoved at his jumper, happy when Hiccup lifted it and his t-shirt off to bare his chest to her. Lean and wiry but strong, his chest was a place her hands liked to explore. As he allowed her roaming touch, Valka remembered how he'd basically been flirting with her right away but she was too oblivious prior to three glasses of wine to notice. She'd stopped drinking wine when climbing in to his lap seemed like a good idea. There was an awkward goodbye at the door, and Valka was no longer convinced it was accidental that a hug and a kiss on the cheek clashed somewhere in the middle, but when he'd pinned her to the wall and kissed Valka until she was dizzy, she hadn't really _cared._

Much like then, when Hiccup leant down and kissed her again before they were both on their feet, making their way to her bed at last. Hiccup shucked his bottoms, crawled onto the covers nude as she was and now he'd taken the edge off, Hiccup was far more intent on taking his time. His hands and mouth mapped her skin, drawing soft sighs and desperate keening sounds from Valka as he sought each of her most sensitive spots, alternating between small teases and harsh bites and squeezes. He dragged out the torment for what felt like _hours,_ palming a breast or tonguing a firm little nipple, nipping at her hip or sucking playfully at her tongue when it slid into his mouth.

Flushed and soaked in her own need, Valka was ready to throw herself at him when Hiccup finally shoved her thighs open, mouth descending on her in ways that had Valka twisting and moaning, her hands clutching at his hair and the sheet beneath. He'd already spilled inside her tonight, but it didn't slow him down any as an eager tongue devoured her mercilessly. Her hips pushed up into his mouth with wanton abandon, long past concern for how she looked in the heat of the moment. Hiccup had seen her countless times in the throes of climax, and it hadn't stopped him coming back again and again, determined to make her come so hard she forgot her own name.

Only when Valka was a twitchy, mindless mess did Hiccup finally fill her properly again, slaking a thirst as her hands found purchase on his sweat-damp shoulders, his narrow hips slotting between her trembling thighs. His freckled cheeks were flushed red, sweat dampening his hair to his face, lips slightly swollen from bruising kisses and bites parted to let out his beautiful little sounds of pleasure... Hiccup was always handsome, but he was _beautiful_ in those moments where ecstacy wrecked him completely, hands on her hip and her thigh holding Valka, pulling her down onto his cock as he thrust. Half-lidded eyes watched her chest move with the force of his thrusts, then rose to fix on her face, Hiccup determined to see her as he took her to pieces.

There was a brief respite for drinks, followed by rounds three and four before the two of them were spent and satisfied, grabbing quick - and necessary - showers before they retired to bed. Hiccup was a cuddler, though Valka protested she'd only wake up with him snuggling her anyway. Cuddles were for relationships, and what they had was _not_ a relationship. Just sex. She made that quite clear to Hiccup. He didn't argue, except for the cuddles.

And, she knew, it was all but over with him anyway.

"I'll miss this. Sure you don't fancy it?"

Hiccup joked over breakfast the next morning - he cooked so well Valka let him, and it usually meant a morning tryst so that was a plus.

"No thank you, once was more than enough."

He'd be gone soon, off to university now he'd graduated college with the right grades. Given how unsustainable their fling would be in the long term, Valka laid down the line that when he left, they were done. Hiccup would meet countless women who were his age and far more _appropriate_ choices for a mate away at university, and Valka wasn't going to wait around for four years with him dropping by two or three times a year for booty calls. No. They shouldn't have _started,_ but at least it had a finish point.

"We can still be friends though right? I mean, it won't be awkward if we bump into each other?"

Chewing on the pancakes - light, fluffy and sweet, Valka didn't care they were not a dignified adult breakfast - he'd made, Valka nodded.

"Yes. That's how grown ups do things anyway."

Hiccup smiled, went back to shoving syrup-drowned breakfast into his mouth. Those were the moments Valka remembered that they were both adults, but very different in the stages of life they were at. Valka was a mid-30s divorcee, with a career and a contemplation of applying to adopt a child soon - she wasn't getting any younger, and wanted to give a child a home regardless of being single. Hiccup had been a brief spell of... not quite mid-life crisis, she supposed. He was handsome and funny and they had good sex. She was old enough to acknowledge that, and allow herself a little rebellious fun for the _sake_ of fun.

But soon it would be over. And that was ok. Hiccup could go on with his life, and she with hers.

There were only a couple more nights he spent in her bed, though more often than not they didn't make it there right away... Valka could feel Hiccup's intention of 'getting the most out of it' the final night, keeping her up until the early hours of the morning and leaving her sore, aching in the best possible way when he finally let her sleep. With a final promise that he _never_ tell his mother what had happened between them, Valka saw him off the next morning with a "good luck" sentiment for his time at university. She might see him around between terms, perhaps, but not like she'd seen him much of the last year.

Valka didn't _miss him,_ really. He'd been good company and incredibly physically satisfying, sure, but friends could replace one half and Valka could start dating again if she wished. Hel, she'd gone without sex for half the time she was married. After the first month had passed, Valka's body seemed to accept it wouldn't be getting any more visits from Hiccup.

She only knew it had been over a month when Valka was out shopping, picking up a box of tampons out of habit to put in the trolley before she realised something. Stomach dropping, her shaking hand picked up something that was handily nearby in the same aisle, finishing the shop in a haze of sorts and _hoping_ she was wrong the entire drive back.

Pacing in the bathroom didn't seem to help time pass by, the seconds hand on her watch dragging so slowly it seemed out to mock her. _Finally,_ the allotted wait time was up. She couldn't look. Convinced herself it wasn't true, then mentally scolded herself about being so ridiculous and turned around to face the ominous little white stick. Consulting the box again to make absolutely sure, the result looked up, mocking her.

_Positive._

-HTTYD-

**Is there such a thing as too much pregnant Valka? I think not!**


	7. Lodgers

**Boy I have been proscratinating this story far longer than ever intended... it's not that I don't** **_want_ ** **to write it, more that I knew it would be a big undertaking and it kept getting pushed to 'when I have more time'.** **But! Here we go.**

**The pairings throughout will vary somewhat, but the central focuses are Heather/Astrid and Heather/Astrid/Hiccup. There'll be others, but you can see that develop for yourselves (no M/M slash, but anyone who says F/F is fine and M/M is disgusting will be tossed overboard from this ship).**

**Uh... content warnings...** **the usual for me; polyamory, threesomes, sexy times and what not.**

**Woo big authors notes always seem to happen. Anyway...**

**on with the story!**

-HTTYD-

"Hiccup, ye can't hide away forever."

"So you keep saying! I'm doing it, aren't I?"

He sighed, his uncle hovering anxiously nearby and fussing over Hiccup as he often did.

"Aye."

Hiccup rubbed his knee, stiff and sore. He reluctantly conceded that Gobber had had a point about his house being too big for just him, though he disagreed on the 'lonely' part. There was no guarantee letting a couple of students come live in his house to attend the nearby university was going to change his life in any way. They might not even get along! And it wasn't like there was never _anybody_ in his home. He had a couple of staff in and out - he couldn't clean the whole place alone, nor would he want to. The gardens needed maintenance. There were people who turned up to cook and make drinks when he held functions too, though Hiccup did his absolute best to avoid those as much as possible.

He got up from his chair, tired of looking at his desk and all the 'important' things on it. Business was never his strong suit, but with his father dead over four years now, Hiccup had little choice but to take over properly at last. Things had gone on while he got time to grieve, and there had been patience with the time he had to learn the ropes, and he _really_ wasn't hurting for money, but that didn't mean Hiccup could avoid the responsiblities forever.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm going to fall over into a pit of despair if you stop hovering around me. Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Gobber sighed, and Hiccup felt bad seconds later. He was only trying to care for Hiccup.

"Jus' makin' sure they are who they said they were."

Hiccup limped along to the kitchen, followed by Gobber who walked with a similarly slightly-unsteady gait. Both users of prosthetic limbs, they had something in common and a shared understanding. Though Gobber used two - one on his arm, another on his leg, while Hiccup only used the one in place of his lower leg.

They were each holding mugs of tea when Hiccup heard the sound of an unfamiliar car pulling up outside, the car park close enough that he could hear it through the open kitchen window.

"That must be them."

Very reluctantly, Hiccup followed his uncle down toward the front door to greet his potential new lodgers.

Well, they were definitely women. That was a start. One dark haired, the other blonde, both with their hair in braids and wearing nondescript hoodies and jeans, and both were looking up at the building Hiccup stood in with visible awe.

"Wow!"

"Is this really the place?"

He heard them talking to each other as they climbed up the driveway, the blonde noticing him first.

"Hey! Are you... are you Henry?"

"That's me."

"I'm Astrid. This is Heather. Is this really your house?"

Hiccup nodded slowly. He was out of practice at conversation outside of business, and hyper-aware of them looking at him, and his home.

"Yep."

"Invite 'em in then laddie!"

He jumped at Gobber's voice behind him, gesturing in his direction.

"This is my uncle, Gobber."

They both waved, smiling in greeting before Hiccup finally remembered to actually invite them in. They stepped in with the same wide-eyed wonder.

"Can you really afford to rent rooms to us so cheap?"

"I could _afford_ to let you live here for free, your rent is mainly to cover costs like the extra cleaning that will need doing, utilities, that sort of thing."

"Oh. I'll shut up then."

Astrid mimed zipping her mouth closed and throwing away a key, which earned her an incredulous look from her friend Heather. Hiccup got the impression Astrid didn't stay all that quiet often.

"Slightly awkward question... you two want _seperate_ rooms, right?"

They shared a look, Heather crossing her arms.

"Would it be a problem if we didn't?"

"No. No judgement here. Just a question."

He _really_ didn't judge - his uncle Gobber was gay, after all. But he'd drawn up a tenancy that assigned seperate rooms to each of the two new tenants, and would need a different one if they were sharing. After a little time staring shrewdly at him, both girls relaxed.

"Yes, seperate rooms."

He nodded tightly, then retrieved the paperwork and asked to see their paperwork in turn. Which was really just ID, proof they were students and details of their last known address. They took the time to read the agreement, which was good. He finished his tea while he waited, acutely aware these people might actually _live_ with him in a few short minutes.

"What are the arrangements with stuff like... bathroom, kitchen?"

"There's a full bathroom near to your rooms that I probably use once a week, I'm rarely in that side of the house. The kitchen is huge, I'll give you your own storage space in there. Just clean up after yourselves."

He showed them to the rooms he'd picked out - his stupidly oversized house was big enough that they wouldn't need to cross paths much.

"There's the bathroom. Anything else?"

"Nope. I'm good. Heather?"

"Me too. This place is _amazing._ "

Hiccup shrugged.

"Well, the rooms are yours if you want them. I'm in and out weird times with work, and have important business visitors over so I expect you not to trash the place."

"We're not like that, so don't worry about that."

"Oh. One last question. Either of you allergic to cats?"

Both shook their heads.

"You have a cat?"

"Yeah. His name is Toothless. He goes wherever he wants, so don't be surprised if he turns up in your rooms."

With a few more questions and clarifications back and forth, they signed the tenancy agreements.

"I'll get you copies once I file these with my lawyer. I'll be home all day tomorrow and the day after, so if you want to go get your stuff, I'll have keys for you when you get back."

They left a few minutes later, and Hiccup finally got to slouch in his chair, too conditioned to acting a certain way around anyone that wasn't Gobber. Dragging a hand over his face, Hiccup groaned.

"What have I let you talk me in to?"

"Letting two lovely young ladies move into yer house?"

Hiccup winced.

"Don't even _think_ about going there."

If _that_ was where Gobber's head was at when he encouraged Hiccup to only rent to women (he'd just not wanted frat boys, honestly), then Hiccup really hoped Gobber was prepared to be disappointed. He was nowhere near even _thinking_ about relationships.

Not after what happened.

* * *

"So, what do you think about this Henry guy?"

Heather asked as she lounged over Astrid's bed, watching her pack the last of her things up. Heather was the organised type, so _she_ was already done. Astrid was usually organised, but always forgot _something_ or got sidetracked by something else.

"He's definitely a little nervous, and not much of a people person. But he's offering a cheap rent for nice rooms, and it doesn't seem like we'll even see much of him."

They both knew _why_ he was a little reclusive. With how wealthy and affluent his father was (as evidenced by the very nice big house), the accident had made the news. Poor orphaned Henry, losing his father _and_ his girlfriend in one terrible accident when he was still only a teenager. They'd agreed not to bring any of that up when they went over, to try and treat him like any other potential landlord. It seemed to have worked.

"Think he believed us on the seperate rooms?"

"I don't think he really _cared_ to be honest. It was more a legal thing, our tenancy agreements mentioned two rooms for two people. He has his own lawyers, he's a business guy. It's all details."

He may well notice at some point though; Astrid and Heather were not just platonic friends, and would more than likely venture into each others rooms many nights. But they were not mongamous by any stretch - Heather had a long term boyfriend, Eret, who was away working on a fishing vessel with his family business. And Astrid was very much still enjoying the freedom to venture out and explore her sexuality with Heather's complete awareness and consent, just as she had the last few months of the previous year at university. They'd both still been living at home with their parents, but it was a tiring commute and meant not living _together,_ so they'd gone on the hunt for somewhere new.

The cheap rooms-for-rent in Henry Haddock's house had only just been listed, apparently, as he was surprised by such a quick phone call showing interest. But he was willing to rent to them, and they weren't about to complain if it meant merely sharing a huge building with someone a bit anti-social. They had different lives going on - he was running his fathers business, Heather and Astrid were students. He was single and seemed intent on staying that way, while Heather and Astrid were a polyamorous pair.

Astrid leant over the bed and kissed Heather with a smile, then went back to finishing her packing. It would be nice to get to live with Astrid properly.

Henry wasn't waiting outside the door that time when they got back, but his uncle was. Round and squat, with a visible prosthesis in place of one of his arms, 'Gobber' was loud and friendly toward them both, greeting Heather's brother Dagur who'd been brought along for extra moving muscle too and leading them the easiest route from the front door to their bedrooms. There were cleaners in the front rooms of the house, and Heather could just imagine them waiting to clean up the mess of their back-and-forth trips to collect things.

They were almost done when Henry found them, seeming surprised by the newer person and visibly jumping when Dagur got a little too close. Her brother had a terrible sense of _personal space,_ and he was brawny and brash and tattooed, polar opposites to Henry who was thin, quiet and... well, Heather didn't _know_ if he had tattoos.

"Dagur, back up and let him breathe would ya?"

"Oh. Right."

Henry looked relieved when he had his space back, murmuring a hello to Dagur before turning to the two girls.

"Here are your keys. You can invite people over if you want, but you're responsible for anything thats broken, stolen or soiled beyond regular cleaning work. And I'd appreciate nothing too noisy, since I work from home."

"This is my brother, he's just helping haul boxes, but thanks."

He nodded, then escaped quite quickly while Astrid was still looping the shiny new key on to her keyrings.

"Jumpy lil fella, huh?"

"Most people don't like when you're an inch away from their face Dagur, he's no different."

Sticking his tongue out, Dagur went back to get more boxes. They were done not much later, and Dagur left without prompting so the two could get settled in but promised to check in that "Haddock wasn't up to anything unsavoury with them". He'd been suspicious of the _females only_ advert, but after seeing how Henry reacted to Dagur, Heather reckoned he was just banking on women being quieter housemates then men.

"I am _starving._ What say we locate the kitchen?"

Heather loved to cook, so a box of all her baking gear and several things that could be turned into tasty meals were an essential for moving. Astrid liked cooking sometimes, but she also had a habit of impatience leading to burning, and distraction also leading to burning. And sometimes, just _spontaneous_ burning, or occasional undercooking...

They found the kitchen with a quick question to the cleaner who was already working on the hallways, and when they got there, they found a rather surprising sight in the form of Henry, wearing a dragon-scale-patterned apron leant over a big mixing bowl.

"Oh. Hi. Uh, I cleared out those cupboards there for you, and there's space in that fridge there. This one is for official business cooking, so please don't take things from it."

He hadn't just cleared space in the fridge, he'd moved things on to shelves or down the middle of the big, deep door and put _stickers_ in there. It was more space than they needed, really, but Heather was already excited about all the things she could make and store properly.

"Freezer?"

"Through there. My dads brother used to hunt, so we always had a big freezer for the meat. Just never got round to downsizing. I don't use it much, but I put labels in there if you want to make sure I know what's yours."

He turned back to his bowl and mostly ignored them while Heather put away her things, admiring the expensive high-end cooker and the shiny black kettle, everything clearly used but also well-looked after.

"You like to cook, Henry?"

"Yeah. Always have. My earliest memories are being chased out of the kitchen by the staff."

"You don't have someone who cooks for you?"

Astrid asked, and he frowned before answering.

"No? My dad had someone make sure I was fed when he was busy, but it's just me and sometimes Gobber. I can feed myself. There are people here to cook for events, which is why everything is so damned _big._ But mostly, just me."

Heather approached him slowly, not wanting to spook him but also intrigued by the mix of ingredients on the side.

"What are you making?"

He looked up, surveying her before seeming to decide her interest was genuine.

"Vegan cupcakes. I'm visiting the animal shelter later today and I always take something for the workers and the animals."

Henry nodded to some boxes in the fridge, marked "unfit for human consumption", before he went back to stirring the mixture he was working on. He barely seemed to register they were there, in his own little world as he lined two big trays with silicone cupcake cases, spooning batter carefully into each one and loading the trays into the oven before cleaning up, then starting on making icing. All without another word. Well, another word to _them._

"Toothless, no! These aren't for you."

The cat yowled unhappily at being evicted from the counter top, black fur slinking around Henry's leg before padding off with body language that clearly said _well, screw you too!_ in Henry's direction.

"Aww. He's cute!"

Henry looked over, and he actually, properly _smiled._ It really changed his face. Even made him pretty cute.

"He's a pain in the neck, but he's my pain in the neck and I love him. Just, not on the kitchen counters."

Toothless continued to act dramatically, occasionally turning to see if Henry was watching as he rolled around, scattering little black tufts of fur onto the floor.

"You've been fed, don't try it. Go find Gobber, he'll give you attention!"

Eventually, after he finished mixing up his icing, Henry caved and reached into a cupboard that had Toothless all perked up and excited. A few treats were put outside the kitchen door, chased eagerly by the cat.

"Is he by any chance spoiled rotten?"

"Yes, and he knows it. He used to be fat, I had to stop Gobber giving him treats all the time by locking the cupboard. Toothless still hasn't forgiven me."

After the cold front he'd had before, seeing Henry calm and relaxed around things like baking and animals definitely made Heather think living with him for a couple of years might not be so bad after all.

-HTTYD-

_**Please** _ **don't write me a bunch of PMs/reviews asking when previous Firsties will be written. I know you guys want them, but pressure makes me go right off any story. I'm trying, I promise.**


	8. As Yet Untitled

**Spotted a question in the reviews for Future Firsties - two of the things I posted in here have been made into full stories, one being** **_Changed_ ** **and the other being** **_Making A Killing._ ** **Several of the others in this list are waiting for previous projects to end before they're started. When Rumours is over, I'll start on Rebound. When Familial is done with, I'll move on to Regal and so on. They'll get done. Patience.**

**Now for this, it's a bit of a "RTTE isn't canon but I like borrowing characters" mash, because anyone who doesn't think the terrible attempts to cram RTTE into HTTYD continuity were a hot mess wasn't watching the same show as me.** **So I'll likely discard a bunch of stuff and pick out what I can make _some_ sense with.**

**Can't think of any specific content warnings needed for this Firstie right now. Other than it will probably bear an occasional similarity to Changed, but it's got a different trajectory in mind than that story.  
**

**Valka/Viggo, eventually.**

-HTTYD-

While Valka couldn't precisely call her life _predictable,_ there were things she expected, and things she didn't.

And on a scale from one to ten of things she did not expect, one being expected and ten being 'practically impossible', her day had definitely hit a solid nine. Cloudjumper was immediately on edge beneath her as they flew; he wasn't a fan of the Skrill that was flying around the nest.

She recognised the dragon, one they'd pulled out of a hunters trap and barely convinced to stay until he was healthy before he flew off somewhere. Skrills were often solitary creatures, and preferred livestock to fish which Valka didn't have, so she didn't feel too slighted by his need for freedom.

That didn't explain why he had a human hanging from his claw. A human who did not look terribly healthy.

Skrills weren't the easiest dragons to befriend, but Valka knew they liked a specific sound her staff could make and rattled it just so, seeing a small amount of relaxation. He must be being very careful not to draw lightning, as he could potentially injure the human further. The Skrill let out a deep grumble, gesturing at the human they carried.

"Alright, alright. Bring them down to the ground, I'll take a look."

Human words registered with dragons strangely; they seemed aware of tone and intent, but not necessarily the actual things she said. If Valka didn't talk to the dragons, she'd probably not talk much at all. It wasn't as though hunters stopped for pleasant conversation in between trying to kill her and capture more dragons. And she didn't get much time to visit the very few people she trusted.

The Skrill laid their human down, and Valka surmised from the bit of facial hair she could see that it was probably a man. He was _covered_ in scars, including a very noticeable one on his face that covered most of one side. It looked like a burn, and while she couldn't be certain, Valka wouldn't be surprised if he was blind in that eye. Still, while the scar on his face looked severe, it wasn't a present injury.

When she turned to look at his wounds, Valka realised something that made her very uncomfortable. It had probably saved his life, but beneath his black tunic was an undervest made of dragon scales. There were jagged tears along the back of his tunic, dried blood all around them but given that they looked like arrow marks, the man shouldn't have survived. And he was still breathing, though his skin was cold and his wounds still quite severe.

"Alright. Bring him up to the nest, I need things to treat him with and he needs to warm up."

The Skrill wasn't happy, but he also wasn't about to leave his human. Laying him out on the ground where she usually tended to wounded dragons, Valka tried not to make a snap judgement about the scaled vest. Atali and her tribe wore shed scales. Mala's tribe made use of them too sometimes. Slowly cutting away his clothes, Valka pulled apart the two halves of material. Wearing scales alone didn't make him...

Oh. No. It did.

On his side, small and discreet, he bore the mark of the Dragon Hunters. Those branded for punishment or slave-claims wore the marks on their face, their chest, bigger and cruder than this. No, this man had taken the mark willingly, to be able to prove when necessary who and what he was.

_So why had the Skrill saved him?_

Valka decided she'd ask him herself when he came around, but for that she had to patch him up. He was still unconscious, and it looked like the wounds on his back were irritated by whatever was on the arrows that hit him. Perhaps he'd come under not-so-friendly fire. The hunters liked to put all sorts on their arrows, to incapacitate or kill dragons depending on what they intended to do with them.

Years of practice relying on her instincts had Valka take a guess at what he'd been hit with, and applied an antidote salve before wrapping him in bandages. There was little else to do with him until he came around. Unless the arrows were poisoned, in which case he probably wouldn't.

"I can't leave him here, you'll have to carry him."

Cloudjumper huffed and grumbled, but relented - the shape of the Skrill made for a tricky mount even if someone was conscious and able to grip. Cloudjumper, on the other hand, had a wide neck and his four wings meant his back wasn't easy to slide off of. Dropping the hunter near the fire in her room, Valka bade a few dragons to keep watch and offered the Skrill some smoked game.

"I won't be long, but if he wakes, call for me."

Valka checked on her recovering dragons, apologised to the Alpha for the sudden appearance of the new human and stashed the hunters sword where he was unlikely to find it.

Now all she could do was wait and see if he woke up.

* * *

Of all the things Viggo knew, it was that he'd been most definitely moments from death the last time he was aware of anything. So, unless wherever one went after death smelled like dragons, something had gone terribly wrong in his plans to die finally fighting for something he respected.

A cold, pointed snout pressed to his side, making him hiss as pain spread along his entire body.

"Awake, are we?"

The voice was new. And yet, strangely familiar...

"Am I alive?"

His throat was dry, voice raspy and his arms unwilling to move under him to support his weight but Viggo Grimborn did not _do_ vulnerable, and he forced himself upright despite the agony in his back. Blinking the dust and grit from his heavy eyes, Viggo saw a fire through his one working eye that explained why he was so warm despite missing the clothing from his top half. And he was wearing some kind of bandages.

"Yes."

"Well, I am very surprised."

His legs shook as he got to his feet, reassured to find he was at least still wearing bottoms and boots. The next thing he saw was the Skrill, who he vaguely remembered had been adamant about dying by his side. Placing a hand on the dragon to reassure them both he was definitely alive, Viggo rubbed his eyes with his other hand and tried to take in his surroundings.

"Who are you?"

Not entirely sure he wasn't hallucinating some kind of saviour in his pain-induced delirium, Viggo took in the woman before him. Tall, thin, looking rather homely in a well-worn green tunic and brown skirt. The large Stormcutter behind her was _less_ homely-looking, leaning close enough to her that his short breaths ruffled her hair. She crossed her arms, mouth tightening in a severe frown.

"You first, _hunter."_

For a second, he was confused, then realisation dawned. Of course. She'd seen the brand on his hip that his father gave him when he was thirteen. Her tone suggested she did feel favourably toward hunters, but then not everybody did and she didn't know he'd had something of a change of heart just before he'd expected to die. Twice.

"Could I trouble you for some water first?"

She seemed ready to reject him on instinct, but managed to sidle over to a small, steady trickle of water that dripped from what he assumed was melting ice up above them and fill a roughly hewn wooden mug. All without ever turning her back on him.

"Here."

Viggo drank gratefully, the dry ache in his throat easing.

"I am Viggo Grimborn-"

She cut him off sharply.

"Grimborn? As in, the Hunters tribe led by Hilmar Grimborn?"

Viggo blinked. Not many people knew _that_ name.

"Yes. He was my father. He's dead."

"I know. I killed him."

Something about her was _so_ familiar, and it frustrated Viggo that he couldn't place it. That frustration was quickly eclipsed by his anger at her candid admission, and he reached for his sword on instinct.

Unfortunately, his sword was not there, and the wounds on his back pulled open with the quick movement, knocking the wind out of Viggo with the pain.

"I _really_ don't think it wise to try and pick a fight with me."

Glaring, Viggo forced his body to straighten up. Looking away in the hopes of getting a grip on his anger, Viggo spotted something _very_ familiar in the corner of the room. He knew that helmet, that staff.

"You!"

"Me?"

"You're that irksome dragon saving vigilante Drago complains about. I knew that Stormcutter looked familiar."

Her face twisted deeper into a frown. That only made her look _more_ familiar.

"Given that you were brought here because I'm the only human the Skrill trusted to treat you, I think you should be very happy I'm an irksome dragon saver."

Viggo grit his teeth. If he was where he suspected he was, and as close to the fabled Alpha dragon as he suspected they were... she was right. He couldn't pick a fight. Not yet, anyway.

"Yes. I very reticently confess that prior to what I expected to be my death, I gained a new respect for the beasts. You still cost me and my operations a great deal of money."

Not as much as those pesky dragon riders led by Hiccup, but still.

"Good."

She seemed very pleased about that. In a twisted way, so was Viggo. He'd used dragons as nothing but currency, entertainment and weaponry for so long, and while he didn't necessarily feel _guilty_ for it, he supposed that most dragons innate instinct to trust unless threatened was the reason he was still alive. As was this irksome vigilante.

"Tell me, vigilante, do I get your name?"

"No. Though it would do you little good anyway."

"Alright then. Another question. Why did you kill my father?"

If he was there, reluctantly at her mercy for the moment, he at least wanted _answers._

"He killed dragons for nothing more than kicks. He slaughtered dragons that had barely hatched and laughed about it. Men like that don't deserve to live."

Viggo couldn't help it.

He _laughed._

"What, exactly, is so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing. You just remind me so much of somebody."

His laughter tapered off as pain lanced through him again, followed by waves of dizziness that almost floored him.

"Sit down. I'll give you something for the pain."

"I am surprised you would even bother."

"If I let you suffer for my own gratification, I'd be no better than you."

Viggo supposed he could understand the logic there. He sat back down, feeling somewhat secure with the Skrill sat next to him. If he knew nothing else, he knew this woman wouldn't hurt his dragon. And the Skrill seemed quite protective of him.

"I see. It was pride in your own righteousness that prompted you to save my life?"

She froze, then shook her head.

"No. Your dragon brought you to me. I was merely curious _w_ _hy,_ and for that I needed you to wake up."

Steeping herbs in water over the fire, the vigilante ladled some into a cup and handed it to him, which he drank solely because he saw the offering of ale to follow. Viggo didn't want to lose any of his faculties, but he also didn't want to be disabled by his pain again. One drink ought to be an acceptable balance there.

"Tell me, vigilante. What exactly do you plan to do with me? You can hardly let me go now I know your face."

Sipping his ale, Viggo smiled to himself as she baulked. Clearly, she hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd find his way out, but for now he could at least enjoy making his captor uncomfortable. And once he was recovered enough, perhaps even avenge his father before he left.

-HTTYD-

**This has the potential to be an absolute clusterfuck. Should be fun.**


End file.
